An Incomplete Analogy: The Road to Authenticity

    As I’ve been “stuck” with my own thoughts these past weeks, just “chillaxing” with not much else to do save watch the tide roll in, my ruminations have turned philosophical. The passage of time and the inevitability of mortality (COVID serves as a constant reminder) have also contributed to my retrospection, although I haven’t just been looking backward. An optimist (a realistic optimist, I think, but an optimist nonetheless), I firmly believe there’s a road ahead that stretches farther than I can see. But….

Here’s the secret (and it’s not really a secret because certainly I’m not the first to reach this conclusion). There is no road – at least no single road. And it’s also no secret that your road won’t look much, if anything, like mine. Some roads are narrow with clearly defined borders, while others are broad and expansive, like the Amazon River, constantly changing its channels, requiring endless updates for its pilots. I doubt that we share some predetermined and recognizable destination. At least that is my (non-conformist) hope.

Some paths appear smooth, well paved with a clear beginning and end, others filled with obstacles, potholes, hidden traps. Be warned, however; both may be illusory. Your perception of another’s road can often be, probably is, deceiving. That smooth road may be far more daunting than you can realize and that hardscrabble path an inspiration to its traveler. There is no manual, no road map; only with work and introspection can we discover our own road, the only road we can truly hope to know. And even that hard-earned knowledge, like the best of our highways, needs constant maintenance as we adapt to our lives.

Here’s another sort of secret. You don’t have complete control of your road and almost zero control of anyone else’s. Multiple factors, when, where, how, and to whom you are born place you on your road, provide you with your starting point. None of those factors, however, define your road’s final destination. In fact, few of us will ever quite reach the end of our road of self-discovery, of authenticity. It may become clearer in the distance, but, if we’re doing it right, our road will always be in flux, because there will be events on that road that force us to concentrate on moving from Point A to Point B without distraction. Those events may even require us, like a maps app, to “recalculate.” 

None of that changes our ultimate goal, however, if that goal is unearthing our authentic selves, living our authentic lives, true to our values and beliefs.

You might ask: What about those who travel with us, share our journey? I confess the analogy sort of breaks down a bit here. But those loved ones, while perhaps even sharing the same mode of transportation, have their own awareness of the road ahead. My wife and I have discovered we perceive colors very differently (just one reason I pretty much let her decide on my wardrobe components), but if we are both/all on the road to authenticity, we’ll notice different landmarks in different ways and be impacted differently. Not that that’s a bad thing. Sharing those differing perceptions makes the journey richer, more joyous, in fact, for all the travelers.

I offer this because I have been, and imagine always will be, in some way, a teacher, a teacher who needs to share life lessons, with the full knowledge that my audience may not be interested or ready to learn, and that’s okay, because if that describes you, then you have your own road to travel and you’re free to ignore the billboards, no matter how valuable and enlightening, along the route.

I may no longer have a classroom (and under current circumstances I guess I’m kind of happy about that), nor even a playing field, from which to disseminate my random thoughts. So, in today’s world I choose to use social media to share my journey, my path, sometimes forcing personal reveals because I believe that the only way we can truly achieve authenticity is openly and honestly, prepared to accept that others may not understand, may not agree, may not even accept. And all that’s okay, because, in the end, I’m the only one who needs to fully see, and accept, what my authenticity really looks like, although having a travel partner who accepts my journey is definitely a plus.

I’m thankful that, after fits and starts based on fears that were more imaginary than real, I’m truly beginning to see, not the finish line, of course, because that’s a moving target, but a clearer, if still kind of uncharted, path to that destination. My hope is that by sharing these and other thoughts you can start on your path sooner than I.*

Best wishes to all on your respective journeys. May you find as much of the same peace as I have, although ideally with an earlier start!

* If you don’t know where you’re going, you'll end up someplace else. – Yogi Berra

Redefining Normal Revisited*

   Mortality and friendship have forced themselves to the front of my consciousness lately.

As the 2020 softball season tries, fitfully, to start, with so many more questions than answers to this point, my mind meanders to memories of my late friend, Tim Cerutti, with whom I was privileged to enjoy the past (too) few seasons, and I wonder what he’d be thinking about how we’re trying to redefine normal in an increasingly abnormal world. I know he’d find a way to “choose happy,” because for Tim that wasn’t just a glib phrase but the maxim he modeled for those of us lucky to have shared the warmth and light of his presence, no matter what adjustments to normal he was forced to face.

This may seem like a non-sequitur, but bear with me. I am a terrible golfer. Once, as I was talking about golf and my multiple golfing deficiencies, another late dear friend of mine, Rick Smith (who, for those who were not lucky enough to know him, was forced to {frequently but successfully} redefine normal for himself in ways that were unfortunate and unfair), shared his wisdom. He said, in essence, “Your par doesn’t have to be what the scorecard says. You get to decide what par (average, normal) means for you [on this hole].”

Why should that apply only to golf (which, with apologies to my golfing friends, isn’t really all that important)? I’m sure that working in a school helped me create a flexible definition of “normal;” even the expression “normal day” was oxymoronic, to say nothing of “normal week,” “normal month” or “normal year.” And that was BEFORE the pandemic!

What is “normal” anyway? If it means average, is that really what anyone aspires to? Is being “run of the mill” much of a goal? Does anyone aim for “nondescript?” Is anyone, in fact, actually normal? Aren’t we all at least a little bit weird (and if we’re not, aren’t we mostly boring)? 

Self-satisfaction, and I’d even argue happiness, comes from accepting who we are (including embracing whatever weirdness helps define us) and where we are in life. That requires a constant redefinition of “normal.” Are any of us the same person we were       years ago? Why would we ever think we’re going to stop changing, just because now we’ve reached the age of      ? 

Studies, however, show that is exactly what we do think! They also show we’re wrong, a great example of “stinkin’ thinkin’,” because when we assume we’ve stopped changing, we get stuck. Even if we did stop changing (and, to reiterate, I don’t believe we do), clearly the world around us is constantly mutating, whether we approve or not. If we’re stuck in an obsolete definition of normal, if we refuse to redefine what is normal for us, for our loved ones, for society even, we have trouble adjusting, and, by extension, finding joy, contentment, happiness, etc. I’d suggest there are multiple, glaring examples of that self-imposed anger, unhappiness, even misery, available to those without blinders.

Normal is relative, and different for each of us. I may be, peripherally at least, in the same profession, but I’m certainly not the same person I was almost 50 years ago when I started my teaching career (the anti-jock who became a coach); I’m not the same person I was 15, 10, 5 years ago, probably not even the same as last year. I certainly know my body is different, that what I’m physically (and even mentally) capable of today has changed. My choice? I can bemoan my encroaching decrepitude, or I can redefine normal.

There is no universal normal; would we even want there to be? What does exist, for all of us, is our ability to define par for ourselves, to forge our own path to achieving the best possible result (instead of fixating on the best result possible {Berndt’s Rule of Life #4}). 

While I believe this to be true, what will be more of a challenge is accepting the changes and limitations that are inexorably making their way in my direction, seemingly emanating from constantly shifting sources. I hope I’m up to the task. But if the challenge is too great, I can always redefine normal.

* A recasting of a previous piece 7+ years ago, updated for 2020, clearly not a normal time.

Another Plague – TDS – Trump Defense Syndrome

This was written a few weeks ago, long before former Secretary of Defense James Mattis offered his rebuke (Click for Link)

Although I’ve been called a “hater,” I do not “hate” Donald Trump. I certainly do not hate those who still support him. Yes, I have no respect him for him, certainly not as a person, but also not as a leader. He must however, be given credit for effectively stoking anger, fear and division. 

Hatred, however, would require more of my energy than he deserves or time than I have for someone of his ilk. So, no, I do not hate him; that’s my choice, albeit one that requires constant mindfulness.

Of course, that will not satisfy those who suffer from Trump Defense Syndrome, TDS. Never mind that many of those same people “hated” Obama (personally) for their own reasons which need not be addressed here. 

The difference, however, is that those of us who felt many of the attacks on President Obama were unfair or unwarranted, did not take those calumnies personally. Just because some believed him to be a bicycle-helmet wearing Kenyan-born Muslim socialist/communist in a tan suit did not get interpreted as a personal attack on those of us who either supported him or did not find him nearly as threatening or abhorrent as Fox News and fake memes wanted us to believe.

But what I’ve noticed, for the many suffering from TDS, is that ANY fault-finding of the president, no matter how rational or justified or even trivial, is taken as a personal affront, a personal attack on them and their values, and is responded to in like manner. That parallels the reaction of the president himself, of course. Any stricture, even any question that he interprets as negative is viewed as a personal attack, because EVERYTHING is about HIM.

I won’t deny that some of those “attacks” on him are personal (although often, IMO, well deserved), but many, if not most, others are just questions that he seems incapable of answering in any objective manner or opposition to his ideas based on political or philosophical differences. His midnight tweets evidence how personally he takes ANY criticism. I find it ironic that a person who revels in personal attacks on his opponents is so thin-skinned when the mirror reflects in his direction. But isn’t that the way bullies typically operate? And yes, that is a personal attack on a despicable being, but not on you. But if you think this is personal, you may be, whether you recognize it or not, infected with TDS.

Random Thoughts from an Accidental Leader

I’ve written before how much a role serendipity has played in my life (Accidental Teacher, Accidental Coach, Accidental Counselor). My life has not been planned, at least not in the big picture. In fact, I’m still not sure what that picture will look like when it’s finished.

Oh, sure, once I (accidentally) became a teacher or a coach (softball, journalism, drama, etc.) or counselor, I tried to control as much as I could, perhaps often to the point of even over-planning (as I’ve also noted previously, I will never get a Staples or Nice ‘n Easy commercial because I tend to overcomplicate things). My father’s son, long-range planning, within those specific corridors, is in my blood.

I also became an accidental leader. Accidental in that I am not a particularly ambitious person, unwilling to pay the price exacted by ambition. My first brush with leadership came at the end of my first year of teaching when I was asked to get involved in Hancock’s nascent teacher union, locked in conflict with an intransigent school board and the incompetent superintendent who was their puppet. I declined. “I’m not interested in that stuff,” I said. Within two years I became the president-elect and (he says, immodestly) and (essentially) the “union boss” for about the next two decades, with power roles locally and regionally, along with two terms (n.b., term limits) on the state board of directors.

So, add leadership to the accidents that shaped me. I eventually recognized that I tended to be a power magnet, accumulating it effortlessly and certainly without any real desire for personal gain. I never really analyzed the why or the how of leadership, I just accepted that leadership was a key piece of my identity and it was easier to just go with the flow than deal with the frustration of resistance. Yes, I suppose that probably sounds, and may be, kind of arrogant and/or egotistical, but my ongoing road to authenticity requires that kind of self-examination.

Interestingly, if you’re still reading, the intersection (collision?) of all four of those accidents has led to what I hope will become a new regular feature on my Facebook feed (joining Wednesday Wisdom & Good News Friday), starting next week, the first Monday of the new year (Happy New Year, btw), the Monday Leadership Memo, because I’m still teaching, or at least trying to, for those who care to keep an open mind and listen (never close to 100%, even in my prime). The four accidental components of teaching, counseling, coaching and leading, mindfully combined. 

“Why?” you may ask (or not, but I’m going to tell you, just like any number of classroom lessons). At the end of this season, my assistant coach and I received a thank you gift from one of our players — the book Legacy, about the All Blacks, the NZ rugby team, and how that team’s leadership values have allowed it to achieve a status that far surpasses what a team from a small nation should be able to achieve, year after year, and how that leadership culture can be applied in so many ways to life as we know it. (Her father is a well-known coach, at least in area soccer circles.)

I started reading, part of the ritual as I prepared for the fitful sleep that defines my nights now (#joysofaging) and at a chapter per evening, finished it fairly quickly. I was immediately struck by the leadership lessons that seem so obvious but which I had never really analyzed (even if I, again immodestly, unconsciously incorporated many of them into my developing character). 

As our nation approaches what may be one of its most historically important elections, a potential turning point to which chapters and undoubtedly books will be devoted, each week (or so) in the months leading up to that pivotal day, I will attempt to get my friends and formers to think (and that was always my only goal) on the fundamental question, “What characterizes true leadership?” While this isn’t a multiple choice question, and, being a “Shades of Grey” kind of guy (Billy Joel, not E. L. James), I’m pretty sure that there are multiple answers, all colored by the lenses through which we variously view life.

No Discounts on Happy Meals

I have a list of rules I’ve developed over my meandering life journey. Rule #1, however, serves as the linchpin: “You don’t get a discount on the Happy Meal just because you’re not.” But it took me a while to reach that milestone marker.

As I’ve been revisiting the “lost letters” from my past, I’ve been forced to reconsider my original assessment that those first years of college (at Hamilton) were spectacularly unsuccessful. In traditional terms, of course, that is completely accurate (earning about one year’s worth of credit for my two years of residence). What I’ve garnered, however, is that I did set (whether unconsciously or subconsciously), and achieve, an important goal. Apparently I was determined to be unhappy and, not surprisingly, found multiple opportunities to focus on and achieve that end.

I’d like to tell you that this was just delayed youthful angst (it’s an understatement to say that I was not particularly mature), but thinking back I also remember, this time as an alleged adult, waking up, in the middle of the night  to write dark, brooding, and (probably) bad poetry. While I still have those documents of despondency, I choose to let them live where they belong, unvisited, in the darkness of a folder.

My quest for unhappiness had familial roots. In this alley between Mothers and Fathers Days, let me state that my parents did the best they could, given the family situations they came from. I don’t think DFS even existed then, and I can’t say for sure if either would have qualified for a visit, even by the standards of today. I think it’s telling, however, that my father once told me, “Happiness is over-rated.” 

I eventually came to realize that I, and I alone, am in charge of my own happiness. Finding that happiness also involved becoming my own, authentic self. That was, and still is to an extent, definitely a process, a journey, helped along by a supportive wife and loving daughter (and her family), plus a big helping of what were often dismissively (with a large dollop of snark) described as “pop-psychology” books. (The common theme of those books? Until you like/accept your (authentic) self, happiness will be elusive, at best.)

While this path to happiness has taken a while, with occasional potholes and roadblocks, I can report that now I can always respond to the ubiquitous greeting, “Have a nice day!” with, “Why not? No extra charge, right?” That usually generates smiles in both directions.

Have a nice day!

If Life Was Fair (I'd be Rich & Have Hair)

The SAT will be adding an “adversity score” algorithm in an attempt to level the playing field for disadvantaged students. In these contentious times, this has, shockingly, generated a bit of controversy. 

I don’t pretend to know if an “adversity score”  is a good idea or bad idea. I give credit to the Educational Testing Service (ETS) for having (what passes for) its heart in the right place, for recognizing the inherent advantages of children from the affluent classes. ETS, of course, is also not divulging any of the details of its proprietary algorithm. While I don’t find fault with that decision, I also don’t trust them to make it work like it’s supposed to.

The program has been criticized from both poles, so maybe it’s not all bad. The bribery scandal that allegedly shocked the nation (Were you shocked? Was it really news that children of the wealthy had advantages not available to mere mortals?) was just an evolution. Large “donations” have been buying acceptance letters to prestigious schools for decades; we need look no further than our government. The main difference here was the attempt to make the process less obvious. You want more evidence? How about the fact that you can now buy an entry for your child if (s)he doesn’t actually win a ticket to the national spelling bee? ($1500 plus your travel and lodging expenses)

I’m not so naïve as to believe that adding one variable to the formula will change much, certainly not in the big picture. If you can pick your parents, all other things being equal, money will open more doors. I doubt that the number of kids, nationwide, who get a small bump to a (maybe more prestigious, not necessarily more appropriate*) particular school will be significant. If those few that do benefit bump an advantaged kid to a less prestigious, but undoubtedly still high quality, school, well, I doubt that will severely handicap the affluent kid.

In theory, though, this provides information to the admissions counselors (process) that may (slightly) change the perspective of the decision makers. Just knowing that an “adversity score” has been added may open eyes if not doors. Of course, because the Law of Unintended Consequences will not be denied, it might also unfairly discount the efforts of an applicant who would have received consideration outside of some arcane formula.

I’m skeptical that we can achieve fairness in the admissions process (or much of anything else, for that matter). That doesn’t mean, however, that we shouldn’t try to find ways to, if not actually level the playing field, at least remove some of the landmines. The effort and intent alone are worthwhile reminders that some of us start life’s marathon with unshared advantages that give us a head start.

* I was accepted at, and matriculated to, an allegedly prestigious college, with more graduates (per capita) than Harvard or Yale listed in Who’s Who in America, thanks in part to the fact that standardized tests were rigged in favor of white middle class (and above) kids (should there have been a “lack of adversity” factor?). Ivies, or Little Ivies, are not necessarily the best fit for kids from, shall we way, more common backgrounds. That was certainly the case for Hamilton (named for Alex while he was still alive) College and me. Mind you, my failure there was on me (does it make me exceptional, by comparison, to accept actual responsibility for that?), my immaturity, the cultural and socio-economic disparity between me and many of my classmates, my inflated opinion of my level of sophistication, plus multiple other factors obvious in hindsight.  Some of those would probably have played out no matter where I attended, but the point is, I used the wrong criteria (prestige high among them) to make my decision. But it all worked out, for me, at least, and I recognize my outcome was based, at least in part, on the advantages I had starting out.

Fear the Mob

– An Explanation, Not a Defense

I want to share a story. It’s one I’ve shared with numerous students over my career. Whether it makes anyone think differently or not, whether it will even give pause, I don’t know. But maybe it will explain how easily and quickly people can get caught up in a mob, in a moment.

It was the summer of my junior year in high school. I was traveling with some of my classmates on a church!-sponsored youth experience, working with other students from multiple European countries to rehab a castle in Untergruppenbach  Germany. We were, if memory serves (and, sadly, it’s not as good a servant as it used to be), the largest single contingent in the “camp.”

Conditions were, at least from an affluent American kid’s perspective, Spartan, although hardly something out of Oliver!, had it been filmed yet. We slept on cots in a room repurposed as a dormitory. But it was the food that became the bone of contention. Breakfast consisted of a kind of mush or oatmeal, mint tea, and bread. Our morning break was dark bread and more mint tea. Lunch was a repeat of breakfast. Not typical fare for us.

Our alleged leader, a young minister, apparently either took this “abuse” personally or took advantage of our complaining to try weasel his way into our hearts. (I freely admit that this is not an unbiased assessment of him; I didn’t like him, didn’t respect him, although, in my defense, his actions, and not just the one related in this anecdote, on this trip were the primary causes of my negative opinion.) In any case, about 3-4 days (as I recall) into the trip, he stood up at lunch one day, banged his bowl, and said, “We’re not taking this any more. Let’s go!”

It was, at that moment, I officially lost my mind... ...to the mob. Most (at least) of us also stood up, bowls of mush in hand, and, following his lead, stormed out the room, looking for the owner of the castle. Not sure what we were going to do when we found him; there were no chickens about, so “mushing and feathering” would seem to have been out. It didn’t take much stomping randomly through the building for some of us to decide, “Uh, this is stupid and embarrassing;” the mob lost steam and dissipated. We went from sheep to sheepishly returning to finish our gruel. 

That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t, not for me. In retrospect, it remains one of the most frightening events of my life. I don’t pretend to be particularly modest about my intellectual abilities. But, for those brief minutes, my mind was not mine; I was not in control. I was just another anonymous follower. It is a feeling, one that strikes fear into my heart to this day, that I never want to repeat.

Imagine, now, had the grievance been serious, legitimate (at least in our perception), of long-standing, simmering on low-heat over a period of years. Cooks know it doesn’t take much more heat to turn a simmer into a raging boil, bubbling over onto the stove. If there’s no one there to turn down the heat, but instead add fuel to the fire (e.g., media and agenda-driven “leaders”)....

Think it couldn’t happen to you? Armies have relied on this semi-controlled sublimation of individual will for centuries. It’s the only rational explanation of the irrational act of charging to a certain death. Sports mobs, in and out of stadiums, are another common example. Mass hysteria is well documented. We all like to think we’re exceptional, to believe that we wouldn’t act that way, but there’s too much scientific evidence to the contrary for that to be true. Something to think about before we rush to judgment of others or absolve demagogues of responsibility.

Note: This sat in draft form for over two years, dating back to Ferguson and other events. The more things change....

Zero Tolerance for Zero Tolerance

Zero Tolerance implies a black and white solution for a problem shaded in variations of grey. It is currently being used by the Trump administration to the (worldwide*) problem of immigration, but this latest incarnation has been applied before to many problems with limited success, at least in part because it is almost always trumped (no pun intended) by the Law of Unintended Consequences.

Zero tolerance has been used to try to make schools safer, with minimal, at best, (perhaps even counterproductive) results. ¹ (Here’s an irony: many of those favoring zero tolerance re: immigration oppose zero-tolerance re: guns in schools, and vice versa.)

Companies are starting to re-think their zero tolerance policies toward employee drug use and testing as they are increasingly struggling to fill vacancies in a time of low unemployment. ²

I’m guessing very few of us want a zero-tolerance enforcement by police officers when we get pulled over on a minor traffic violation.

How many of us raised our children with a zero-tolerance approach? How did that work out for you when you tried?

How many of your best teachers had a zero-tolerance policy (s)he fanatically enforced? What was your opinion of those teachers who never made exceptions for anyone or anything? Be honest.

It seems to me that we all recognize the limitations of zero tolerance, except perhaps when it doesn’t seem to impact us personally.

    It’s a complex world and while laser sharp black and white rules might look attractively clean and simple, under closer examination, even those are pixilated. (Also see Rule #42: Most rules written in crisp, dark black print on starkly white paper may be clear but are also fragile and easily broken. )

Jimmy Buffet got it right when he sang, Simply Complicated.

* Immigration is a worldwide problem, replete with shades of gray. It is, in fact, the one issue where citizens we have met from all corners of the globe** agree is problematical for their country. Problematical, but not the same problem. Canadian concerns are not English concerns are not Swiss concerns are not Aussie concerns are not Kiwi concerns are not American concerns. You get the idea. We share the issue in general, but not the problems it generates, and certainly not the solutions required.

¹ The [APA] task force reviewed 10 years of research on the effects of zero tolerance policies in middle and secondary schools and concluded that such policies not only fail to make schools safe or more effective in handling student behavior, they can actually increase the instances of problem behavior and dropout rates.

The research also showed that zero tolerance policies failed to increase the consistency of discipline across student groups and failed to decrease uneven enforcement of punishment across racial lines.)

²  Desperate to fill open positions, some employers are beginning to soften zero-tolerance drug policies, particularly for jobs where safety is not an essential function.

Low unemployment and increasing use of illegal drugs are narrowing the pool of qualified workers in many regions and industries. State laws allowing medical and recreational use of marijuana are complicating recruiters' efforts to find drug-free employees, as is the continued abuse of prescription opioids. [SHRM]

** Now there’s an expression that makes no sense, but I decided to use the cliché anyway.